yen_powell

I returned to the queue, probably an hour after the last attempt and this time my mate had arrived and was a few places ahead of me. I signed in and received a little marked up bag with a sheet of info, a badge, a bin liner and a voucher for a free coffee inside. I walked back to my tent and watched my mate fighting with his tent in the wind. I told him I’d had no trouble, but as he was I’d give him a hand. Eventually order was restored and we went and had a few drinks. The wind dropped now and the sun was quite warm. I filled up my water container at a tap and saw a bloke who looked like Phil the Spill, a character from rallies in the 80s and 90s. I knew he lived in the wilds of Scotland and no longer rode a bike so was sure it couldn’t be him. Later that night when the first band were on I asked him if it was him and it was. His photos are on Facebook and cover a time period of just under 30 years of rally attendance, not bad for a man who doesn’t actually drink alcohol. The pictures are like a time machine, hair styles, clothing, tent types and bikes, you can watch them change over the years. I mentioned I had spoken to him when they had strippers at a BMF rally in 2000 which was unusual at that time and he proceeded to whip a tablet out of some inner pocket and he had all his photographs on it, including those. They were ruder than I remembered. I went to bed a bit wobbly, the wind had calmed so much it was silent apart from everyone talking, snoring or farting around the field. It was bloody cold and at one point I got up, dug out my jacket inner liner and put that on top of all the other stuff I was wearing. Next day I persuaded my mate to follow me to the Silverstone Race track museum. Spent an hour or so in there, the 3D film at the end is worth the entry fee all on its own, although it did make me feel a bit sick. When you exit it you can watch the cars flying round the track, there was a Ford Ka and a Mk 1 Cortina rushing around as well as more modern stuff. We stopped for lunch in a flash boatmans’ pub by a canal afterwards and lowered the tone of the place. Riding back to the rally I heard a siren somewhere behind me as we rode through a small pretty village. I hugged the kerb but kept moving and looking in my mirror I saw my mate had done the same and a fire engine flew past us. A few miles later we caught up with it. There was a car, a few people, firemen, some motorbikes and a line of cones blocking off a country lane junction, obviously an accident close to the rally site. I found out later it was a motorcyclist who died not long after crashing. He was nothing to do with the rally, just passing by, but one of the passing female rallyists held his hand as he died apparently. https://www.mkfm.com/news/local-news/police-appeal-after-motorcyclist-dies-in-collision-in-milton-keynes/?fbclid=IwAR1sR0dDxr4EsaV1thizTGo1aaKCDXdw73VdaYAcn529Q1pcd53EYOMLhQ4 We were waved on around the cones by a fireman and returned to the site. The bands were very good on Saturday night, the only fly in the ointment was that the bar ran out of my preferred drink and I never managed to get the same drink twice in a row afterwards as other stuff ran out too. I spent another cold night and woke up to see my mate had set his collapsible kettle up on an ancient gas stove. I packed all my stuff inside the tent up, made myself a cup of coffee on my own stove, then walked across the site for a pre home journey dump in the portaloos. I returned from that and his kettle still hadn’t boiled. I talked to him for another 15 minutes before steam started coming out of it. I reckon it took about 45 minutes all told. I packed my tent up, it now taking up twice as much room as before and packed my panniers. One refused to lock, the key wouldn’t turn. I bunged a bungee on it and decided to sort it out when I got home. I said my goodbyes to various people and headed home using the back roads rather than motorways. I was doing well until I passed through Bishops Stortford. When I went to cross the M11 roundabout to carry on home it was all coned off and being in a narrow one way road I was forced onto a northbound M11 along with other cars full if annoyed looking people. I had to do 35 miles to get back the same roundabout on the other side. I heard today that some other people I know got caught out the same way. So it was 90 miles there and a 126 home. I fixed my pannier lock after unpacking, a ball bearing inside the lock had jammed, bad design if you ask me.

I headed across country to the rally about lunchtime on Friday, my mate was riding from further away as the crow flies (61/63 miles respectively) on his new to him Triumph Tiger 800, but there seems to be no direct route east to west for me, so my journey was 90 miles, his was only 80. I had a new tent I bought in 2020 when no one was allowed out and I hadn't even opened the bag, let alone put it up. This proved to be a mistake. I did my zig zag journey in very windy conditions, the sort of blustery stuff that shakes your head about rather than pushing the bike across the road if you know what I mean and I arrived about 2pm. I stopped my bike next to the signing in tent where there was a long queue which didn't appear to be moving. I stood at the end for a few minutes, looking back at my bike I could see the stand had sunk enough to make me worry about it tipping over properly, so I left the queue and moved it a few feet onto slightly firmer mud. When I rejoined my queue I heard my name called and realised that a couple I knew were ahead of me. Jackie and Shaun told me to just ride in and put my tent up and sign in later, so I got my bike and followed their directions to find out where they were camped. I parked up and the field was full of sheep shit, it was everywhere. The words 'it's a working farm' came back to me from the rally info sheet. By now the wind had really picked up so the first thing I did was get the ground sheet out of my tent bag and peg one end down so it wouldn't blow away. Then I removed the Kyham tent which was a taller version of a type I'd had two of over the last 20 years, so it shouldn't have presented any problems. BUT, with the wind fighting my every move it was hard work and one of the folding poles just seemed to be in a knot and until I could get that sorted the thing had no structural integrity and the wind was sending it back and forth. Out of nowhere a few blokes came and asked if I needed help. I suggested holding on to my ankles would be a good idea. Then Jackie turned up as well and 4 of us fought the tent some more. We were still having trouble with a single folding pole and one of my saviours spotted that it had been assembled incorrectly. He managed to disconnect it and rethread it properly and we finally got the thing to stand up and I pegged it down quickly. I pinched one of the guy lines from the non windy side and doubled up on the gale side and it seemed okay. A few feet away there was a collapsed tent with about 5 Givi panniers sitting on top of it. It turned out that tent belonged to someone I know called Noddy. He and other members of his bike club dressed in foil suits when the bands were on that night and he had what looked like a head band over spiky hair. This turned out to be a hat which he whipped off to show us. I made him do it again for the camera as you can see.

I'll bet they are all around you, they just don't talk about what they've done in their lives unless asked directly or something happens to make them speak about it. The quiet man collecting glasses in the local pub could be a Spanish civil war hero or villain.

Ware 2. Several career changes here. https://spitalfieldslife.com/2022/10/10/tony-jack-trumans-brewery-chauffeur-o/

Camped near this bike at the weekend.

40th GPO rally near Milton Keynes. Phil the Spill, the infamous bike rally photographer was there, I was convinced it couldn't be him cos he lives in Scotland now, but I asked and it bloody was. I'm sure he was shorter than me at previous rallies, but he's a few inches taller now, so either porridge builds you up or I'm shrinking!

Bike rally this afternoon/weekend.

Albanian Lego today. Natural materials are so much nicer than man made concrete slabs and blocks.

A man who can do an oil change in a clean white t-shirt and pale jeans without getting any on himself. We are not worthy. I can't even drink a cup of tea in a white t-shirt without a bib.

There'll be a German somewhere who would probably pay top dollar.

It was Snape Maltings yes, I stopped to put a jumper on, the temperature had dropped suddenly. I'm going to google what a sole board is now.

Where do all the people go that used to live in these places, cities, abroad, died of plague?

Oh that is soooo good!

I was asked to do a 3D drawing of a street a few years ago by the woman in charge of us at the time. I reminded her that although she promised to refund me my money if I paid for it and did a course in my own time back in 2004, she had gone back on her word when I asked for the repayment. I said seeing as I had paid for the course and done it in my own time she would have to pay me as a consultant if she wanted it done. She changed her mind.

It's outdated now, they have devices that pick up a point, tell you how high it is and you code it so it can be converted into an AutoCAD drawing, the measuring staff is replaced by a stick with a prism on top. I still use the old fashioned method myself on small jobs if required. All I need is a 'boy' with a bit of sense to hold the measuring staff vertically in the right place. You'd be amazed at how difficult some youngsters find that. They slouch, or lean in a particular direction or start looking at their phone instead of paying attention. I pay outside companies to do the big surveys now. We had our own in house bloke, but he either never had anyone to help him (minimum 2 man job), his batteries would pack up, or he wouldn't go out in the rain. He now works for me as a CAD draughtsman instead until he retires.

That was about 25 years ago not today. I had sandwiches today, I learnt my lesson.

I took a picture of a front door just off the beach because I noticed they were ready for a flood. The Martello tower was surprise, I never saw that last time I was there.

NOW, this is a benchmark on one end of the Moot Hall. Used when measuring levels/surveying. The Ordnance Survey used to place them on public buildings, bridges, retaining walls, police stations, anywhere they thought was unlikely to change. I put a 50p in it for some of the pictures, that is how we used to use them. You extend your measuring staff and place the foot of it on the sticking out coin. The height of the bench mark will be shown on the large scale OS plan, or you can get it from a reference book. Your telescope is set up on a tripod somewhere close by and it is carefully levelled using the two bubbles and two adjusters. Because it is level now, wherever you look the cross hairs will point at stuff at the same height above sea level. By reading the number on the measuring staff and adding it to the benchmark height you get the height of your telescope. Now where ever you put the staff on the ground, you look through the telescope and read the measurement where the cross hairs are, to the nearest millimetre. Subtract the height of the telescope from the reading on the staff and you have the ground level. The last picture is a sign in a built in seat at the other end of the Moot Hall.

The Moot Hall. If you absolutely need to have a moot, then this is the place to have one. You can moot away and no one will think badly of you, as long as you clean up after yourself. Model boating lake according to the map and looks like one man is about to have a go. He'd be better of just having a moot instead. B

I haven't been here since my son was small. All I recall is that the fish and chip shop was famous for its quality and we had been told to try it if we ever went there. Unfortunately the rest of East Anglia also wanted some. The queue was hundreds of yards long, it actually crossed side streets. Once we had queued for 45 minutes, I was all for giving up, but my other half insisted that we keep going. Eventually we got inside and bought our fish and chips. I'll give them their due, they had customers stretching to the next county but they had not put their prices up or taken on extra staff, they just got on with it like they were unpopular. Once we had our hard won food we walked through the alley to the beach to eat them. That was when I discovered that people would come up to you and offer to buy them off you for double the normal cost rather then join the queue. I refused a few offers and scoffed the lot.

Taken today, whilst being rugged and individual (no one wanted to come with me either).

No one wanted to go with him?

Now THAT is a good photograph. Not just the dog, all those trees with the mist and sunlight between them. Pet of the Month picture, (not Pete of the Month picture).

I love the look and idea of fried bread. I enjoy eating the fried bread, but oddly I feel bad half way through eating the fried bread, sort of guilty. Nothing else fried does the same to me for some weird reason. Didn't used to like tomatoes when I was younger, gradually came around to fresh ones by my mid 20s, and now I like baked tomatoes as well. Tastes have definitely changed for quite a few things as I got older.